


Angel Oak Tree

by Wicked_Wayward_Warrior



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Comfort, Dean Winchester Deserves to be Happy, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Happy Dean Winchester, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-29
Updated: 2021-01-29
Packaged: 2021-03-15 00:01:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29054814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wicked_Wayward_Warrior/pseuds/Wicked_Wayward_Warrior
Summary: Dean and Reader are in the car headed to their next gig when Reader notices the colors in Dean's aura.
Relationships: Dean Winchester & You, Dean Winchester/You
Kudos: 16





	Angel Oak Tree

A haze of green and yellow light colored my vision. I wasn't trying to see his aura, but the way he beamed while he was driving made it hard to miss. Contentment on a Winchester was like finding treasure; you could never be sure if it was real life or not, but it was cherished all the same. And this moment wasn’t any different. 

His head bobbed as music blared from the Impala's speakers, consuming empty space in the car. We'd been in the car for a few hours already with no real plan for where we were headed next. He liked it that way, driving without a care or concern, and I liked the way it looked on him. It was as if every burden he'd carried since he was a kid was temporarily set aside and the glow of his joy consumed him.  
I leaned against the door, fingernails trapped between my teeth, and stared at the light flickering around him. Yellow dominated his aura, lending to his playful demeanor. There was something transfixing about seeing him like this, a remnant of his childlike excitement for nothing in particular. This bliss was a stark contrast to the focus he had when we were hunting. Then, he was purposeful about each decision he made, keeping the rest of us safe. Now, even the blur of trees as we sped down the highway brought a sparkle to his eyes.

He stared out at the road with wonder, barely noticing the way I'd curled up with my knees to my chest, eyes wide drinking him in. Sunlight saturated the car, bringing a much-needed warmth to the leather seats beneath us. Despite having the sun visor pulled down, sunlight wandered into the dazzling pools of green in his eyes.

His eyes...they were like live oak trees blooming in the summer. The small flecks of brown like branches, twisting and winding, taking root in my chest, weaving through my ribs every time he looked at me, claiming my heart for his own. And it brought me joy because it brought him joy.  
For all my trouble, I loved him; wholly and completely. I hoped, more than anything, that he could see past the broken parts of me to love me like that too. Deep down, I tried to trick myself into believing he did. Even when it made no sense.

The throbbing drums of his song evaporated into silence, and he turned, showing me more than his profile. I sucked in a breath, unsure of what he would say. Brows scrunched together, he reached out, tapping under my chin with his rough fingers before they returned to the steering wheel. "You good?"

I gave a halfhearted shrug; he'd make fun of me if he knew I was so taken by what was going on in my head--by him--that I'd forgotten how to speak, and I wasn't keen on giving him more reasons to tease me.  
His gaze flicked toward the road and then back to me as a wave of concern washed over his features. "You need anything? There's a rest stop a few miles up."

I shook my head.

Silence hung in the air as he shot me a few quick glances. Unease crept up his neck and shoulders, but he didn't say anything. Not at first.  
I blinked, and the yellow that dominated his aura moments ago started to fade into a rich green. Steady and unmovable. "Come here," he said, outstretching his arm to me.

Without hesitating, I scooted over the leather vinyl seating and cuddled up against his chest. I threw my legs out at my side and threaded my fingers between his. Settling into his warmth, I closed my eyes and rubbed my cheek on the scratchy fabric of his jacket. When I opened them again, his eyes were on me, as steady as they could be with the car still moving.

"You'd tell me," he said, planting a kiss on my forehead, "if there was something wrong?"

There was no doubt that something rotten and painful was retching its way into my chest, straining against the impenetrable branches that kept him rooted to me. An unspeakable worry tightened my throat and all I could give him back was a nod and a soft hum.  
It was, of course, a lie. I'd never risk that smile for something that clung to me to years, threatening to take away what little joy I had left in the world. He raised a brow, questioning my response, but deciding not to push me further. "Cause you know you can talk to me. About anything."

I nodded, humming again.

There was a flutter of red in his aura, bright and furious, but only for a moment. It wasn't something that hadn't been said before. Something that lingered in the back of my mind, crawling up my throat, laying claim to my tongue. That rotting thing, insidious and enduring. I wouldn't let it have this moment. No. This moment belonged to him. To his joy. To his peace.

I wouldn't let my sadness take it.


End file.
